Suddenly, the boy’s arms shot out. Something white sliced through the air. Marshall ducked his head just as the sound of shattering glass filled his ears. He looked behind him and saw that one of the window panes in the door had been broken by the thrown soap.
“You boys just wait!” he yelled at the two retreating figures, now halfway down the driveway. “Your parents aren’t gonna like it when I tell them!”
But they were gone now, racing swiftly down the road toward town. Marshall turned slowly and looked up at the job they had done on his windows. They must have been just starting when he caught them, because only three windows were caked with streaks of soap—the two kitchen windows on one side of the front door and one of the livingroom windows on the other side.
“Little scoundrels,” he muttered as he walked up to the front door and inspected the broken pane. He continued swearing under his breath as he took his penknife from his pocket and began to pry away the loose putty. He gingerly removed the shards and put them in a pile on the front step.
He groaned and pressed the heel of his hand into the small of his back as he straightened up and wondered whether or not he had some panes of glass in the garage. If not, it would mean another walk into town to get some before the hardware store closed for the day. There was no glass in the garage so he turned and started the walk back into town.
The incident with the kids and the repair work occupied his mind so, while he was working, Marshall never thought again about David’s return to Holland and what it meant.
But as he strode down the driveway and onto the road, he had plenty of time to think. Like the memories that the view of the old homestead awoke, the thoughts he had were not good.
VI
S idney Latham’s office was plush to the point of being down-right out of character for a small town like Holland. A potted palm tree and another plant with huge, split leaves basked in the sun by a long picture window with a view onto a wide, tree-lined field. The couch in the outer office was too comfortable and pulled David down deeper than he wanted; he was afraid he would fall asleep in so much comfort. Apart from feeling tired, he felt grubby and wished he had first gone back to the motel to shower and change.
The door opened suddenly. Latham poked his head out, caught David’s startled glance, and then waved him into the office. As David walked past him, Latham stuck his hand out and gave him a firm, pumping handshake. “Nice to see you, David. Nice to see you.”
David took the chair beside Latham’s desk. He started to apologize for not being at the top of his form, but decided to remain silent. Latham walked to his desk and picked up a walnut box. Opening it, he asked, “Cigar?”
David shook his head.
“Don’t mind if I do myself,” Latham said, as he began to peel the cellophane from one. Under a billow of smoke, he sat down in his leather cushioned chair.
“I was shocked to hear what happened to you last night,” he said. David felt a lack of sincerity on Latham’s part, and then thought cynically that it probably made him a good lawyer.
“I’ll get over it a lot sooner than the boy’s parents will,” he said softly. He looked at the manila folder on Latham’s desk. It had Logan written on the top. “Still, it’s quite a shock for the town.”
“Umm.” Latham flicked at the edge of the folder, making a snapping sound that began to irritate David. He looked as though he wanted to say something, and David raised his eyebrows in expectation. Latham puffed vigorously on his cigar and then cleared his throat. “Lot of folks are upset, no doubt. I can’t say as I blame them, though.”
“Well, I’m sure Shaw and the state police will do everything they can,” David said mildly.
His statement was exactly the bait Latham seemed to be looking for. He leaned forward across his desk and said, “Well you know, that’s
“You boys just wait!” he yelled at the two retreating figures, now halfway down the driveway. “Your parents aren’t gonna like it when I tell them!”
But they were gone now, racing swiftly down the road toward town. Marshall turned slowly and looked up at the job they had done on his windows. They must have been just starting when he caught them, because only three windows were caked with streaks of soap—the two kitchen windows on one side of the front door and one of the livingroom windows on the other side.
“Little scoundrels,” he muttered as he walked up to the front door and inspected the broken pane. He continued swearing under his breath as he took his penknife from his pocket and began to pry away the loose putty. He gingerly removed the shards and put them in a pile on the front step.
He groaned and pressed the heel of his hand into the small of his back as he straightened up and wondered whether or not he had some panes of glass in the garage. If not, it would mean another walk into town to get some before the hardware store closed for the day. There was no glass in the garage so he turned and started the walk back into town.
The incident with the kids and the repair work occupied his mind so, while he was working, Marshall never thought again about David’s return to Holland and what it meant.
But as he strode down the driveway and onto the road, he had plenty of time to think. Like the memories that the view of the old homestead awoke, the thoughts he had were not good.
VI
S idney Latham’s office was plush to the point of being down-right out of character for a small town like Holland. A potted palm tree and another plant with huge, split leaves basked in the sun by a long picture window with a view onto a wide, tree-lined field. The couch in the outer office was too comfortable and pulled David down deeper than he wanted; he was afraid he would fall asleep in so much comfort. Apart from feeling tired, he felt grubby and wished he had first gone back to the motel to shower and change.
The door opened suddenly. Latham poked his head out, caught David’s startled glance, and then waved him into the office. As David walked past him, Latham stuck his hand out and gave him a firm, pumping handshake. “Nice to see you, David. Nice to see you.”
David took the chair beside Latham’s desk. He started to apologize for not being at the top of his form, but decided to remain silent. Latham walked to his desk and picked up a walnut box. Opening it, he asked, “Cigar?”
David shook his head.
“Don’t mind if I do myself,” Latham said, as he began to peel the cellophane from one. Under a billow of smoke, he sat down in his leather cushioned chair.
“I was shocked to hear what happened to you last night,” he said. David felt a lack of sincerity on Latham’s part, and then thought cynically that it probably made him a good lawyer.
“I’ll get over it a lot sooner than the boy’s parents will,” he said softly. He looked at the manila folder on Latham’s desk. It had Logan written on the top. “Still, it’s quite a shock for the town.”
“Umm.” Latham flicked at the edge of the folder, making a snapping sound that began to irritate David. He looked as though he wanted to say something, and David raised his eyebrows in expectation. Latham puffed vigorously on his cigar and then cleared his throat. “Lot of folks are upset, no doubt. I can’t say as I blame them, though.”
“Well, I’m sure Shaw and the state police will do everything they can,” David said mildly.
His statement was exactly the bait Latham seemed to be looking for. He leaned forward across his desk and said, “Well you know, that’s
Similar Books
